I once had a sailor penfriend, stationed abroad, whom I corresponded with for a long time. He never sent a picture, but described himself as 6ft 2in tall, blond with blue eyes, and sounded gorgeous. Eventually he came home on leave and phoned me, and we arranged a date. I took hours getting ready, and when the doorbell rang, I rushed to greet him in great anticipation. There he stood clutching gifts and flowers for me, and yes, he was 6ft 2in, blond with blue eyes, but there was just one snag. He looked as though he had been thrown together. He was AWFUL! I had to invite him in, but once I'd parked him on the sofa, I ran into the kitchen to ask my mum what I should do. I was desperate not to be seen with him - but she said I must go!! I went out with him for a month, until his leave was over, and always suggested going to places where no one knew me. He was a nice person - but I'm afraid to say - and ashamed to say - looks do count. Most people aren't drop-dead gorgeous, but if they aren't at least half decent, we never really take the trouble to meet them, do we?